Molly is going to Oregon with her father tomorrow. I have to send her. When she's here, I'm tied to the house. Because she is the neediest little dog, and never more so than just after D has been here and left, and because, maybe, I can't separate the me from the she in terms of feeling abandoned. Whatever--the consequence is that I don't go out when I want to and I don't go out when I need to and when I do go out, if it is at all possible, I take her with me. I feel trapped.
Sounds like a single parent, doesn't it? And that is something I am not prepared to be. I realized this during the week D has been here. I have been out and about every night--gee, a real social life! Which is good, because the grimness of 250 lbs. of Bad Mood or Depression or Simply Lack of Interest is not fun to be around.
I've got a pretty full life going here, and that pleases me. I've got plans for the near and far future that excite me. But I need to be free of responsibility for a while. And he needs to have it.
Still, I'm sadder than sad. I'm suffering from the Welling Tears Syndrome. But I've got to do it. For my sake. And hers. And his.